Death Ain't Hallow
by The Other Side of Darkness
Summary: AU Major. In the Chamber of Secrets Harry nearly died. Because of this he was granted the ability to see souls, living and dead, and came into contact with the death god of a whole other world. HP Soul Eater cross. HPHG, Dumbledark.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Harry Potter or Soul Eater.

Chapter One: Sharp As A Switchblade

"Eh heh heh heh!" Laughter, cruel and preverse, came from a street thug who stood over a young woman with a slightly ripped top. "Bad luck, yeah? It just sucks to be you tonight, huh?" Around the two of them, bodies lay ripped open for the world to see their innards. "First, these punks try to get frisky, yeah? And now you gotta deal with me. Eh heh heh heh heh!"

The woman began to let loose a scream, but before it could even fully leave her lips the thug had used his left hand, a demented, clawed creation that couldn't really be called a hand, to rip into the woman. Moments afterwards a blue light, visible only to the spiritually aware, rose from the body then shank down to a blue sphere of ghostly fire.

The thug used his deformed left hand to reach out and grab the soul, for that's what it was, and ate it. He patted his belly with his right hand, "That one tasted better than those punks. Maybe I should stick to killing pretty girls instead of the usual street twerps."

"Or maybe you should die," a new voice came from the end of the alley, "Right, Hermione?"

"Yeah, but you know, we could have stepped in before the girl got killed, Harry," The next voice was feminine.

"Nah, she was a real bitch, 'Mione. Saw her soul, it was about as self centered as they come," the first, obviously male, said with an uncaring tone.

The thug turned to see who was talking. He frowned seeing a scrawny looking dark haired boy with glasses and a girl who was a bit taller than the boy with bushy hair. Who the hell were these two? And why weren't they freaking out about him eating souls? The boy did say something about seeing that last girl's soul, maybe they were like him...

"Still, at least give me some warning the next time, it was so gruesome watching her die."

Now that the thug, name of Rick before he shed his humanity to gain power through eating human souls, looked closely he could see that girl had inhumanly sharp teeth.

"Heeey!" Rick began, "I dunno who you are, but you better screw off! I've eaten other Pre-kishin's before and I'll do it again if you don't leave..."

The boy, whose eyes he couldn't see for the light reflecting off of the lenses of his glasses, looked at Rick and a slow grin spread across his face.

"Ready to go, Hermione?"

"When ever you are," she said back to him. The girl then began to glow a pinkish-white before turning into a bolt of energy that hit the boy's open hand. The bolt then solidified into an abnormally large switchblade, about three times the normal size with a picture of a beautiful moon on the hilt. The boy the pressed the button to force the blade into the open revealing an obsidian masterpiece. Seven inches long, a curved edge, razor sharp, and such a shine to it that one could groom oneself in its reflection.

"What the fuck are you?" Rick asked in confusion.

Harry's grin got wider as he spoke, "I'm a Technician."

_"And I'm a Death Weapon,"_ Hermione's voice came from the knife sounding as if she was talking while gargling Water.

"And you're going to die!" They both said at once before Harry dived at the thug shoving Hermione's blade into his skull before he could react.

Rick, instead of spurting blood like a normal living being, became a black amorphous shape that unwrapped to reveal a red soul that seemed to be growing scales, an obvious sign of the Pre-kishins.

Hermione quickly reformed into her normal shape, grabbed the Pre-kishin soul, and forced it into her mouth. She chewed with her oddly sharpened teeth and swallowed before letting out a pleased sigh.

"Keh, I'm actually kind of dissapointed, ya know Mione? I was expecting something more from this guy after the report we got from Lady Maka," Harry sighed in disappointment.

Hermione gave him a look and said, "Would it kill you to appreciate the good fortune of an easy fight?"

"It might," Harry said seriously.

"Don't be melodramatic, Harry," the Death Weapon said to her Technician.

"I'm not being a drama queen, Mione, Just think about what we've got to eventually go up against. We've got Tom, his followers, and the majority of the British government to contend with. And that's before we even get to ninety nine Pre-kishin souls. After that we have to single out a witch, kill her, and eat her soul so that on the off chance that a Demon God does emerge, which Tom is too close to becoming for Lady Maka's tastes, we will have the power to defeat it. If we keep coming up against weaklings like this we'll become complacent, loose our edge, and even if we get all the requirements to turn you into a Death Scythe we will have the power, but none of the control necessary to turn the fight to our advantage. So, yes, fighting these weaklings may indeed be a death sentence!"

"..." Hermione stared at her companion in silence for a few moments before saying, "Don't be pescimistic, Harry."

Harry gave her a half hearted glare and a deadpan tone, "You just have a comeback to everything don't you?" he suddenly latched onto the taller girl and rubbed his the side of his face into her breast and said in a goofy voice, "And that's what I love so much about you, Hermione!"

"Gah!" Hermione cried out. She then punched her Technician in the head forcing him to let go.

The boy fell to his knees holding his head, crying overly large comical tears, "Waah! Hermione doesn't love me! Waah! Waah!"

Hermione rolled her eyes before crouching down and patting him on the back, "Now, now, It's not that, Harry. I'm just not ready for a physical relationship, okay?"

Harry looked up at her with large, teary, green eyes and said, "Really?"

"Yep, I still love you," And she held open her arms for the hug she knew was coming.

Harry dove into her arms with a shout that sounded suspiciously like 'Yay!', and held her for a few seconds before Hermione spoke again.

"Okay, now let's go see if Lady Maka has anything else for us tonight," she stood up, followed shortly by Harry.

The fourteen year old boy walked to the nearest wall and pulled out a piece of chalk. He then drew a circle on the wall, and then wrote the numbers four, two, four, two, five, six, four while chanting, "Shini shini koroshi..."

The circled began to emit light until it became what appeared to be a window that showed a blonde woman in her late twenties. The woman wore a white dress shirt with no sleeves, white gloves, a black tie with a skull on it, and a red checlered skirt. Her blonde hair was held back in a pony tail to keep it out of her pale green eyes.

"Harry, Hermione," she greeted the two cordially, "Report."

"We took out Rick Streetbane with little resistance. That makes our fortieth Pre-kishin. Is there anything else in our area that you need taken care of, Lady Maka?"

The woman pulled out a large book and looked through it before shaking her head, "Iie, no, nothing at the moment. I'll contact you again when something comes up. Good night." and the view of the woman faded back into the brick of the building, erasing the chalk that was there.

Harry stuck his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and looked up at Hermione, "Should we go back to Hogwarts or should we let the old goat fret his beard off?"

Hermione glared down at her technician with her arms crossed, not bothering to answer such an obvious question.

Harry sighed, said, "Right, right," He held out one hand to her and the other to snap his fingers. Hermione took his outstretched hand and in that moment Harry snapped his fingers. Without a sound or flash or efen a swish of air, the two of them were gone.

A split second after teleportation found both the Weapon and Technician in an old dingey house, a large black dog waiting for them.

Harry let go of Hermione's hand and turned to the dog, "Hey, Sirius. How's it goin'?"

The dog morphed from a black mutt to a tall man with black hair tied back into a ponytail, black eyes, slightly sunken cheeks, a five o'clock shadow, and a surprisingly decent build considering that he was in Azkaban for twelve years and had only escaped a year ago. He wore a pair of blue jeans, brown shoes made of hard leather, and had converted the white and grey prison shirt into a tank top. He made an intimidating picture.

The man grinned and pulled Harry into his usual hug of greeting, "Been doing pretty well, just dealing with my boredom. Did you guys have a job tonight?" He let Harry go and turned and gave Hermione the same treatment.

"Yeah," Harry said, "A real weakling this time. We killed him, Hermione ate his soul, and we headed here. I suggested that we go back to Hogwarts to keep the old goat off our back, but Mione didn't want to."

Sirius just chuckled, "Never would have figured you to be one to go against school policy, Miss Granger."

Hermione huffed, crossed her arms, and said, "Yeah, well that was before I found out that school policy was made by the same man that allowed a slimy Pre-kishin like Snape to teach children, let Harry get abused by his relatives, and didn't even mention that Harry had a piece of Tom lingering around his body for more than ten years!"

"But if he hadn't done any of that we never would have been contacted by Lady Maka," Harry reminded her with a grin.

Hermione kept her arms crossed and turned her nose up at the idea of Dumbledore's methods being justified.

Harry and Sirius chuckled a little at her expense. Sirius then straightened up and said, "So how about a room and food for you two love birds?"

"Actually, despite Hermione's wishes, we're only here to check on you, make sure you aren't just letting yourself rot. I've gotta be back before morning 'cause tomorrow is the first task, remember Mione?"

If she were not a young woman of higher education the Death Weapon would have cursed. As it was she grumbled harsh words under her breath.

"Fine," she ground out eventually. She gave Sirius another hug, followed by Harry doing the same, and held her hand out to the raven haired boy in the black hoodie. Harry snapped his fingers and again the two of them were gone.

"... I've gotta find out how he does that..."

+--- Nake, Snake, Cobra Cobubara ---+

The two teens appeared again this time in a broom cupboard near the Gryffindor tower. Hermione was giving Harry the evil eyes.

Harry was giving her a meek and innocent look as he responded to her unasked question with, "What? We've only been gone for about thirty minutes, this is a perfect excuse."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Souls, Weapons, And The God of Death

Harry lay on the floor of the chamber of secrets, staring upwards as he felt the basilisk poison work it's way through his veins. He was dying. He knew he was dying. He was oddly at peace with dying.

Harry, who had endured the subtle, and sometimes blatant, abuse from his relatives, wasn't really that sad to go and not entirely because of the previously mentioned relatives. Part of it was his parents. He was sure that he would meet his parents in the afterlife, and despite all of the new friends and people he cherished, he felt that that reason alone would be worth it, even if he'd not been abused at all in his life.

He felt a light smile adorn his face as the edges of his vision started to go black. Strangely, as the blackness began to devour his sight more completely, it began to lighten. By the time it had all but blinded him it was a pure white color.

That was when he noticed a flash of red in what was left of his vision.

He was kind of sad when Fawkes showed up and cried into the basilisk bite. But he didn't hold it against the legendary bird of rebirth. He supposed he'd just have to wait a while longer to meet his parents. Instead of moping about it, however, he grabbed the sorting hat, shoved the sword back into it, and took Ginny Weasely's limp hand.

"Fawkes, Can you get us out of here?" he asked the bird weakly, still suffering from the damage the poison had done before the bird had appeared.

Fawkes gave a trill that put another serene smile on the face of the Boy-Who-Lived as it grabbed onto his shoulder and began to beat its wings.

"One of the many amazing abilities of the phoenix," Harry said in praise of the beautiful raptor of legend, "the power to lift things far beyond the capability of an average bird."

The rest of that night and the next day were a blur to Harry. He met with Dumbledore and Draco's Father, Lucious, freed Dobby, was there for Hermione waking up, watched as Gryffindor was presented with the most house points for the year again, and finally had Ginny thank him repeatedly for saving her from Tom.

It just all felt so... bland after having nearly died. He just couldn't seem to care much about any of it, except for perhaps waking up Hermione. It was like nearly dying had opened his eyes to how trivial everything really was that he'd previously thought so important. He did put up a facade that no one had seen through yet, but that wouldn't last long with Ron and Hermione and he knew it.

He would laugh later when he found out that it would be Draco friggin' Malfoy that would return the color of things to the world for him. He would laugh harder when he realized that the previous sentence almost sounded as if he just discovered his undying love for the inbred, daddy's boy.

It was on the Hogwarts Express home that Draco lended an unknowingly helpful hand.

"So you survived," Draco said with a sneer, his flunkies behind him as usual, "too bad, and I'd hoped I could have a year without the spreading rumors of how great such a pathetic halfblood who wouldn't bloody die is, when we all know he isn't. The least you could have done was leave the weaselette to die and done us all a favor."

Ron was turning several shades of red, Hermione looked almost ready to resort to inventing spells for ripping out fingernails slowly and practicing them on the colossal prick, and Harry was mouth agape staring straight at Malfoy.

"What's the matter, Potter? Cat got your tongue? Or did you finally find out that it's better if you keep your mouth shut to keep from looking any more stupid than you are?"

Finally Ron had had enough and jumped up hi wand pointed at Malfoy with the intent to cause him bodily harm, Hermione was up a moment later forcing him to lower his wand, Harry was still staring.

"That's right, Weasel, do what the mudblood wants. At least she knows when she faces her betters," Malfoy had a smug grin on his face as he said this. His thugs were chuckling to themselves, though they didn't quite understand why. Draco had just told them to chuckle everytime he said something about mudbloods.

Hermione resisted the urge glare at the blonde again and instead said to Ron, "Just ignore him, Ron. The ramblings of a boy from a family so many times inbred that they can only produce an heir through artificial insimination is of no consequence to those who know the difference between sister and wife."

Now Draco turned red, "How dare you?! My father will hear of this!" And he stormed off, his lackeys following.

Ron and Hermione sat back down after Ron congratulated Hermione on a brilliant retalitory strike the like of which he'd seen so very few times, if not in so many words.

Harry was staring.

"Harry," Hermione began, wondering if the insensitive things Malfoy had said had gotten to the black haired boy, " are you alright?"

"I...I..." Harry couldn't speak. He couldn't believe what he had just seen. It...it had to be impossible, some sort of halucination, an aftereffect of the poison.

When Harry had glared at the git he got a look at, what he could only guess was, Draco's soul. It was about the size of a basket ball and white, pure white, and yet it just seemed so dirty, as if it was tainted by something foul that simply couldn't be seen, only felt.

When Ron stood up he saw his soul as well. It was smaller than Draco's, about the size of a grapefruit, and was a fiery orange color with a few bits of green here and there. It felt so different than Draco's though. It just felt good, like it was made of gold in its raw form. Something inside of him told him that this was proof of Ron's ability for compassion, something Draco clearly lacked, it was what made Ron his friend.

And then Hermione stood up. Her soul was soft pink, had a feeling of acceptance and happiness in it that almost made him feel drunken, and was the size of a beach ball. There was one other difference.

At the very center of Hermione's soul was a switchblade with a blue handle, a shiny black, seven inch blade, and a beautiful moon carved into the handle. This part of her soul reeked of power unknown.

He simply couldn't put into words what he had seen. He had no idea how to explain to his friends that he could suddenly see, and apparently read, souls.

"You shouldn't let what he said get to you, Harry," Hermione said, snapping Harry out of his stupor.

"I... know... I-I... I need to walk around for a bit, clear my head," He said finally and stood up. Just as he was about to leave he turned back to them, "I'll be alright, I promise."

Ron and Hermione looked unsure, but allowed him to leave anyway.

Harry wasn't technically lying. He did use the time to clear his head, but he also used it to try and find out what the hell was going on with his eyes. He would carefully look at the people he came across. Everyone of them, he could see their souls, each was different in it's own way. Some were large, like the seven year students, others were small, like the firsties, they were all different colors, some even had defining features, like Oliver Wood, whose soul was the shape of a Golden Snitch.

After a while he went back to the compartment with Ron and Hermione and pretended to be better, but inside he was still trying to desperately figure it out.

Again it was meeting someone that he disliked that made things better.

"...And you will _not _practice any of that freakishness in my house! Do you understand boy?"

As with Draco, Harry was silent, though only at first.

With his aunt and cousin watching he walked up to his uncle so he was within arms reach.

"I can see it," Harry said softly.

"See what?!" Vernon demanded.

"Right there," he placed a finger on the middle of his uncle's chest, "I can see your soul right there. It even has your mustache. It isn't speaking, per say, but it is telling me things, things about you, things about aunt Petunia, things about Dudley, about everyone that has a soul," he turned his eyes to his cousin and aunt in turn and continued, "Your souls are telling me that you are mean, self absorbed, selfrighteous, greedy people."

"I will not be insulted by a-"

"Freak?" Harry interrupted his uncles tirade, "A word you secretly apply to yourself in the mirror every morning. You say it to yourself because of all the things you have the one thing you lack is the sense of right and wrong. You seek out normalcy so dilligently so others don't suspect the sosciopath hidden inside you. You tell people things about me, lies, to make your rages and punishments appear justified when all it is is a realease for the urges you know _aren't_ normal.

"You call me a freak because I can do magic, but you turn away from me when I show compassion, gratitude, happiness, and all the other emotions you simply play act because you know that if you pay attention to them, acknowlege the fact that I even have them, then you also have to acknowledge that, out of everyone in this house, I am the closest to normal." Harry pulled his finger off Vernon's chest and the fat man fell to his rear, staring up at Harry in horror. "I'll be in my room if you need me, uncle."

That one speach, instead of creating more anger directed at him, inspired true fear in his relatives. It was the most pleasant summer of his life. The Dursleys didn't serve him or anything silly like that, but they left him alone for the most part. They gave him chores, but nothing like the rediculously long lists of the past. He was even allowed to eat full meals.

If Harry had been a might nastier, a little more petty, he could have decided fear was a good thing. But he didn't. If there was one thing he knew from all his years under that roof it was that fear would never bring him what he really wanted. Love. The thought of using fear to rule others never even crossed his mind.

It was the day of his thirteenth birthday when something happened that would change the world as Harry knew it.

Harry recieved a black package in the mail, no return address, with a kind of humorous looking skull on the front of it.

+--- End Chapter Two---+

A/N: I know it might be a bit annoying, but for the first four or so chapters, I'll be switching back and fourth between past and present. But I hope you like what is available so far. I'm sorry its so short.


End file.
